The power of the assembly

Last year, and the year before last, I remember driving to test against  COVID-19.  A drive through motorways and alleyways.  Booked appointments, showing codes, receiving testing kits, performing the test and giving it back. Waiting anxiously for the results, all of them negative at the time.  

Admiring the sheer infrastructure created for testing.  In no time, public venues, mostly car parks, were invaded with trucks and marquees.   Volunteers swarmed.  And here we were, circulating in queues, faces down, sometimes chatty, some other times silent.  Vaccination for me went smoothly.  First time, second time, booster time.  This last one at a church, where the normal assembly was replaced.

The power of assembly.  Our power as communities to come together in times of need.  Or in times of festivity.  A school fayre, a footie tournament, these last two I have just experienced.  At some point in time, if there is any time to bear when the assembly calls us and we are there, things feel quiet.  They feel solemn, they feel slow.  We get there, we take part, we then leave.  

Perhaps we need to cultivate this power bit more.  Now that we are together again, it is time to remember what keeps us together, what binds us together.  A couple of minutes or a couple of hours.  Some sense of communion in between.  A ritual enacted perhaps.  Remembering, evoking, connecting.   

The limits of kindness

Monday morning in one of my favourite cafes.  Writing bits of a new book chapter.  A flurry of emails to look at.  Some things to do before they become too big to attend.  A longing, a desire to be with people.  

2013.  Me and my twins.  Trying to survive.  Stepping in for a colleague who needed urgent treatment.  I cover for him, and another colleague who found it difficult to teach the postgraduates.  I was kind at the time.  Early waking up.  My wife was kind to me and the children.  We made it.  

2021. One email gets my attention: we need to cover for a colleague; another one does not want to teach software use.  Yes, we are all busy.  But why is it that some who are in the digital world (or at least they say they are) do not want to learn about new tools, let alone share with others? 

I say no.  In my own ways.  

2020-2021.  We have all survived lock-downs and challenges in the last few years.  Kindness has helped.  But there are limits to kindness.  

If anything, lock-down (s) have taught me that we all need support.  But it is not fair to continue relying on the same people who give it and the same people who ask for it.  This forces us to be creative, I will give you that.  But there are ethical limits to how creative we can be. 

It might be good to limit our kindness.  Not with a view that we cannot do anything new.  But rather to be responsible with our energy and to also teach others what we think is important in our lives.  

Pandemic presence

The lockdowns in our societies have helped bring to the surface how we as human beings think of ourselves as present. Virtual and other technologies have helped us to maintain a degree of presence at work and with geographically distant family.  

I wonder if we have changed our image, what we say or do when being remotely present, and how we have managed our physical presence when it comes to going some places or just talking or doing stuff at home.  

Myself I had not thought of the above as I assumed that I was the same individual when interacting with others.  I was aware of the (mindful) importance to be fully present (easier said than done).  The first lockdown was a retreat to finish writing my latest book and some research articles, and a preparation of educational resources for my job.  I think I maintained presence in my circles, showing myself up at times.  There were nice conversations with old friends that I had not seen for a good while.  And with of course my close relatives.  At times I was also absent minded:  the writing, the preparations, the anxiety, the frustration.  

After this first lockdown ended, I noticed I was missing my coffee meetings with myself (for writing) and with my friend Adrian.  I was also missing meeting my well-being group.  We kept the meetings virtual.   And when the first opportunity came I socially-distant met with these people.  It was good to finally catch up.  

And with second and third lockdowns, I am now thinking that I need their presence somehow, and that I want but often cannot really be present as I would like to.  Work and home schooling make busy and draining days.  

Presence is now a challenge.  Or is it not?  Maybe I am still present, but not in the way I would like to.  It is one thing to talk or listen to my students online (most of whom do not show themselves and only listen), or to have virtual work meetings (in which we follow an agenda and occasionally we joke).  And it is another thing to feel we are ‘there’ in a common space, that we are ‘there’ now, fully engaged, feeding from each other, communing with each other.  

Maybe we would need to accept that presence means both of these things.  That we are and we are not present.  That one cannot be with the other.  

We are all trying to be present, perhaps we just need to be less demanding of what we want to achieve.  

A test for other viruses

This new year brings more testing, and not necessarily for COVID-19.

Having lived through several lockdowns and uncertainties, it might be time for us to test ourselves on how well aligned are our values to what we do at work and elsewhere.

It might be that our self-defensive habits have taken over, leading us to strongly protect some imaginaries like our own images of ourselves or others.  

Or our 'nostalgic' pictures of what the world was or needs to become ('normal' again?).   

And in the process, we might have adopted thoughts or behaviours that keep us ‘safe’ from the scrutiny of others and the world in general.  We could also have developed other habits or adopted thoughts which we considered very alien, and are now part of who we think we are.  

Myself, I considered that I am now more of a facilitator of learning than a traditional lecturer, although I still keep some habits in and outside the classroom.  My values of dedication and commitment remain, for good or bad. I have adopted my teaching material to suit more shorter events and also use of other online resources from publishers.  And I still aim to propose creative assignments to my students, teaching face-to-face whenever required.  

So I do not think I have been afraid of change, only that I have somehow changed at my own pace (not too fast, not too slow). There are costs. I feel drained at the end of the week.  Maybe I have tried to hard to instil enthusiasm in myself and my students. Perfection, again. 

Perfection, an old habit, and also, I have adopted some unhelpful thoughts:  “There is no body else that can do what I do; If I don’t do this the world comes to an end.  I am here to right all the wrongs encountered; everyone should be committed to help students, and if not I must intervene. It is the pandemic “. 

Some of these thoughts align with my values of dedication and commitment.  But others don’t.  I appointed myself to be a saviour, when colleagues are also paid to do their job.  I value time with family and time for thinking too.  I cannot right all the wrongs or help everyone that comes my way.  It is really not possible.  

What else do I value?  

• Contact with nature
• Health
• Self-care
• Collegiate support
• Curiosity
• Simplicity
• Reflection 
• Honesty
• Time to do nothing.  

Time to reshuffle priorities, and test myself again, with compassion.  

And what about you? Is your job misaligning with your values, creating fake thoughts or unhelpful habits?